Page 23 of Fallen Angels

I shrug. “You’re a king. You can have anything you want. And… you just admitted to wanting me so I guess… I guess I’m surprised you haven’t just… taken what you wanted?”

He nods and appears to ponder the question. “I suppose I could have…” Then he grows quiet once more. “I can’t say for certain why I haven’t either.” Then he pushes his chair back and stands up, walking around the table until he’s directly parallel with me. He places his palms flat on the table top and leans over so our faces are mere inches from each other. “When I think about forcing myself into you, the thought doesn’t seem right.”

I nod but I don’t say anything, because I’m not sure what to say. That, and his extreme proximity makes me feel nervous and uncomfortable.

“There is something about you, though,” he continues and pulls away as I breathe a sigh of relief. He pulls his arms behind his back and clasps his hands together as he begins to pace back and forth in front of the table. “Yes, you are beautiful, no doubt,” he says as he faces me and nods. “But there’s more to it than that.” He takes a breath. “Perhaps I will regret admitting as much to you, but since seeing you, I admit I have been able to think of little else.” He paces to the end of the table before turning around and walking back. When he returns, I can clearly see the bulge in his pants.

“Ah, you can see the reaction you have on me,” he says when it becomes clear I’m having a hell of a time pulling my gaze away from his crotch.

At his statement, though, I immediately pull my eyes back up to his and clear my throat as mortification and embarrassment take turns claiming my cheeks. He chuckles low in his throat and leans over the table again.

“You are quite like a nervous schoolgirl on the one hand and an experienced whore on the other,” he says. “And I have a hell of a time trying to decide just which one you truly are.”

It’s obvious he doesn’t realize I’m part Succubus. And I’m not about to tell him. It’s better to keep him on his toes—make him think he needs to solve this puzzle, because in doing so, it will only buy me more time.

“You have seen the obvious effect you have on me,” he says as he glances down at his erection and then reaches down and rubs his hand over it. I feel my mouth begin to water. “And yet, I have no indication of the reaction I’m having on you.”

I nearly choke on my own tongue and my chest begins rising and falling as I fight to catch my breath.

“I want to place a bet with you,” he continues.

“A bet?” I repeat and my voice comes out as a chirp.

He laughs. He can see the distress he’s putting me under, but he doesn’t seem to care. Actually, he seems to enjoy it. “Yes, a bet.”

“What… what is the bet?”

He leans closer to me and the scent of him surrounds me, filling my senses and making me dizzy. “I want to feel your pussy and if it’s wet, I get to taste you.”

“And if it’s not?” I ask, even as I inwardly berate myself for not immediately saying “no” to this ridiculous bet. Because I know I’ll lose. The second he touches me, he’ll know I want him.

He already knows,I tell myself.This is just an excuse to touch you.

I want him to touch me,I respond back as intense shame ridicules me.

He shrugs. “What would you desire?”

“To be returned to my cell,” I answer almost immediately.

“Very well. If your pussy isn’t wet, I will promptly return you to your cell.” He smiles broadly as he nods. “What do you say?”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” he answers. “Now come around the table and let’s see who will win this bet.” He stands up straight and I push my chair out as I stand and then begin walking down the length of the table, each step feeling like I’m wading in tar. I can feel his gaze on me and I know what he’ll find as soon as he touches me. I hate myself for it.

When I reach him, I force myself to look into his eyes. He smiles and the expression of lust is thick.

“Pull your dress up,” he says.

I reach down and grab the diaphanous fabric, pulling it up from the ground until my calves are exposed, then my lower thighs.

“Higher,” he says.

I pull the dress up to my waist, exposing my lace panties. Variant stares at me as he reaches forward and pushes his index and middle fingers between my thighs. He rubs them against the lace and it’s all I can do not to throw my head back and moan.

“I can feel your moisture through the fabric,” he whispers. “But a bet is a bet. Take them off.”

I don’t argue but just breathe in deeply as I reach down and pull my panties down to my knees. Then I stand up and find his eyes on my again. He reaches forward and runs his index finger down my slit, pulling it back up to reveal the heavy shine of my wetness.

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